Siplh CoFragments
by Affected
Summary: The regions of the Pokémon world are in turmoil-protests, riots, coups-but researchers in the Silph Co. labs are trying to advance the technology that makes them hated...
1. Chapter 1

The President stood in his office staring intently down at Saffron City from the top of the eleven-story building. He turned behind him and asked his assistant if there were any upcoming appointments. "Well, sir, there is a man named Bond waiting who has an appointment in twenty minutes." "Send him in."

A few moments later a tall and slender man in a long coat entered the office and politely waited for a nod from the President before taking a seat. "Well," the President said, "what brings you here today."

The man's eyes widened slightly and he took in the room in a way that suggested he was indicating more than just the office. "I'm here to make an offer on your company, sir."

The President blinked, surprised. Slowly: "You mean to say you're going to buy out the world's largest manufacturer of Poke goods?" The man, Bond, chuckled and rose from his seat.

"Silph Co.," he said, "is indeed a vast empire, spanning–what?–five regions, is it? But let's face it: You're the only one competent enough to run this project." He looked the President up and down derisively. "And, let's face it, you haven't much time left to find a successor."

He spoke carefully but confidently, pausing between certain words almost disarmingly.

But the words rang true.

"That may be but I'm afraid I can't be bought out. What would I do with the money?"

"You've got a few good years left. Think. Cinnabar is nice this time of year." A chuckle.

The President leaned back in his chair. "What's the offer?"

"2 billion credits."

The President rose. "Sir, I respect you. And I don't know why, but I can't think of a good enough reason to stay with this company. And I've run it for countless years…! But no matter." He looked all around the office. "I think my time here has ended as it is. It doesn't feel like home anymore." He shook hands with Bond, who afterward gave him a check. The President had never seen such a tiny piece of paper mean so much.

Something small meaning so much…

—–

A small explosion shatters the vial and suddenly I'm on the ground, coughing, disoriented, head spinning. Springer helps me to my feet. "Well," he says, "that chair's busted." I look at my formerly pristine office chair, now a twisted hulk of pleather and plastic.

I look at my desk and see a thick green fluid covering my workspace, which I quickly clean with a special washcloth. I then put the cloth in the BIOHAZARD wastebin. The memory hole.

I scratch my head and muse, "I guess Carbos and X Accuracy don't mix well."

"Well, yeah," Springer says.

"But at least we know the Poke Blender works well." I stare at the large, bulky box at the back of the workstation, and watch the exhaust rise from its back. Something occurs to me. I rush to the requisition forms and fill out a request for a Poke Ball, a Power Aprijuice, a Sweet Pokeblock, and a random Poffin. I throw the request down the chute and wait.

"Heh. What're you gonna blend now?"

I just look, innocently, at Springer. "Who knows?"

After a while an assistant arrives with the items I asked for. "Thanks," I nod, then turn to the Blender. Bemused, Springer watches me carefully. I throw the items into the apparatus. "Here goes nothing." I activate the machine.

With sickening grinds and shudders, the Blender begins whirring and whining, a thin purple exhaust fuming out from the rear of the device. With a few violent shakes I hear an intense grinding inside the machine and slowly inch away from the workstation, scared.

A large CRUNCH emits from the Blender then the whirring stops and a tiny ding! signals the end of the process.

Cautiously, I approach the Blender and open the lid, and inside I see a Poke Ball, with a black-and-white splatter design marking it. Frankly, it looks pretty cool.

"Lemme see!" Springer rushes forward, as eager as a scientist playing around with tiny particles might be.

But there still remains the obvious question: What's it do?

—–

We take the Ball–nicknamed Graffiti Ball–down to the Experimental Tests lab. Mercy, the department head, is immediately interested. "Where'd this thing come from?" "Our Poke Blender." "What in the world is a Poke Blender." I grin, proud. "Our invention."

She takes the Graffiti Ball from us and places it in a small chamber, which engulfs the Ball in an intense white white. A bunch of strings of data it's not my job to be able to comprehend appear rapidly on a computer terminal next to the chamber, which Marcy studies intently. "I can't believe you two created a Poke Ball without using the Lock-and-Pistol." Springer and I glance at each other, laughing silently. Marcy glares at us. "Nice, a bromance between scientists." Sneering, Springer says, "Nice, jealousy between scientists."

Lame.

I shake my head.

Finally, the terminal beep!s and the chamber unlocks, allowing us to take the Graffiti Ball. Reading the statistics, Marcy says, "The thing can hold two Pokemon at once! And… and they can battle each other and train!" Then she turns to us. "You two just revolutionized the Poke Ball industry. Congratulations." Dryly. Anticlimactically.

"What'll we call it?" Springer asks, extremely excited. "The Duo Ball? The Pair Ball? Oh! the Hyper Ball! Yeah!"

"I like 'Graffiti Ball', don't you?" I say. "Yeah." His eyes widen. "Yeah!"

Marcy shakes her head.

—–

My name's Carter by the way.

—–

As I exit the Silph Co. building I'm swarmed by protesters holding signs high above their heads, chanting something unintelligible. I try to push through the crowd but they slam me against the glass doors, poke my chest hard, and speak in incriminating tones. Panicking, I begin to reach for the fake pistol the President issued to all of the employees, but eventually they tire of me and pace around the front of the building, screaming, throwing their signs above them and sweating profusely.


	2. Chapter 2

[A/N: These chapters are all raw and unedited and it shows. When this is all over I'm gonna edit it heavily.]

On the TV, a reporter from Jubilife is standing in front of the Goldenrod Radio Tower, saying: "Here in Goldenrod news of the protests has spread and rumors are circulating that a large demonstration will be held here in this very street. In other news, the Grand Pok athlon Cup begins in two weeks, and-" I change the channel to the Poke Flute Music Channel and begin to relax in my chair.

Suddenly, the phone rings and, startled, I tear the phone from the receiver. "Hello?" I ask.

"Carter," starts a robotic voice on the other end of the line, "please report to your workstation as soon as possible. Thank you." There's a small click! and the line goes dead.

Sighing, I put the phone down and, rising from the couch, head out the door.

Springer is already there when I get back into work, along with a prototype assistant I helped develop, called the WORKER v1. WORKER turns to me and, not offering a greeting, points to the Pok Blender. "The President has requested that you blend these two items." It indicates two Pok Balls on the worktable, then leaves.

Glancing at me, Springer chuckles and says, "Well, at least it's operational."

I shrug and put the two Pok Balls into the Blender. "Why would they need us to operate this thing? It's pretty simple."

"Who knows? Maybe they're just lazy." Sighing, I flip the switch and listen as the blending process begins with violent shuddering, whirring, exhaust-same as before-and eventually hear the tone that signals the end of the procedure. I open the Blender and inside remains only a single Pok Ball remains.

What was the point of that?

"Oh yeah," Springer says, "he said there was a Porygon in each of those Pok Balls." I look at the product more seriously now, and say, "Well then."

I drop it on the floor and with a bright white light a Pok mon I've never seen before is released. It looks similar to a Porygon but its angles are much smaller and it looks more like a giant insect buzzing angrily around the workstation.

Before we know it we're in the President's office face-to-face with the man in charge of the most important company in the world.

"You two," he says, "need a raise."

Later I finally get home, house totally drenched in night, and lie down on my bed, trying vainly to fall asleep, knowing it's impossible because of all of the excitement I'm feeling and the adrenaline course through my veins.

The next morning, having gotten a bit of sleep, I get up and, stretching, get ready to go back to work. Before I leave I look around the tiny house, wondering if I'll keep it once I start to spend my new salary. Chuckling happily, I head to work.

The protesters are there again today, holding signs high and screaming as loudly as they can. When I approach, they turn to me, like everyday, and I expect the usual torrent of insults and accusations. Instead, they just stare at me angrily. Bemused, I continue into the Silph Co. building.

When the elevator gets to my floor, WORKER is there to shove me back in and push the button for the floor just above. "What's this about?" I ask. It remains silent.

When we exit, Springer, in a suit, is waiting for us. Once I step outside the doors close and WORKER disappears. "What's this about?" I repeat. Springer shrugs. "He said I was reassigned to management. I don't really care. Better pay, less work, and less credit. The Blender was all your idea anyway." I cock my head to the side. "Is that what-" "No. It's just I don't really want the attention."

Silence for a few moments.

"So why are we here?"

I begin to walk around the room and behind a stack of boxes I find a table with a Pok Ball on top of it. In front of the Pok Ball is a card that says: Uploaded.

I glance at Springer, who mirrors my expression. I throw the Pok Ball to the ground and in the same light as before the Pok mon the blender created appears again. It snuggles up to me happily. Springer starts to laugh.

Suddenly, the Pok mon flies upward and shoots a beam of light at the table. In the haze, an image of the President appears, chuckling, saying, "Carter, this is an interesting Pok mon you created. Feel free to name it want you want. When you're done, come to my office."

I look at the Pok mon. Holograms, huh?

Then grin widely. 


End file.
